


Sordid Affair

by PlumTea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 1970s Japan, All ships are onesided, Alternate Universe - Noir, Detective Noir, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Murder Mystery, Past Character Death, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 20:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14456682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumTea/pseuds/PlumTea
Summary: Kageyama Tobio is a small PI off the backstreets of Tokyo. Business is good, but he needs some extra cash to fix up the office. Then a knockout with the name Oikawa Tooru walks into his office with a murder case: his husband's dead, and he wants some answers. It's Kageyama's first major case, and now everything's changed.





	Sordid Affair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miyukitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miyukitty/gifts), [sumaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumaru/gifts).



> For Miyu and Lin, who came up with the idea and egged me on, knowing I have no way of resisting mysteries. So here we are, a giant noir parody.  
> Now featuring [art](https://twitter.com/nrothly/status/1009306283546152962) by North!

Kageyama Tobio’s on the tall side, with a closet full of black clothes. He’s got a permanent frown and too much liquor on his shelf. The small office he runs is right above the local collection agency, up some narrow stairs that needs a handrail. He says he’s a PI, but Suga says that he’s more of a professional busybody. Being a busybody pays the bills when everyone’s got a secret to hide.

Big numbers in steel, cars, and tech meant bigger wallets. Bigger wallets meant loose marriages. Husbands who aimed for a girl every day of the week, wives working money off three men at once. New scandal every day. Business was good.

The ceiling fan’s broken again and he needs a new case for the repair bills, and quick. In a couple of months, it’ll be summer, and with the summer comes heat so bad his shirt becomes a second skin. The last of the extra funds went towards the new sign that hangs outside the office, commissioned by the painter down the street.

Kageyama takes a bottle of milk from the fridge and gets ready to pop it open before a voice booms through his door.

“Bakageyama!”

“I told you, you don’t insult your boss!” He would’ve preferred a female secretary, but all the girls he knew were either too busy or too qualified. So instead he’s got Hinata, an old buddy of his from way back when.

Hinata throws open the door to his office. With that energy of his, he sends it flying against the wall. “You got a client!”

A client will give him enough cash for the fan and then some. Good timing.

The door opens normally this time, and in walks a god on legs. He’d look like he just came out of a ceremony with that white formal kimono of his, if not for the string of jewels across his chest pinning his haori together. His pale brown hair sweeps around his head, framing striking mahogany eyes. He crosses the floor with ease, pausing before Kageyama's desk.

Kageyama feels himself suffocating.

"Are you Kageyama Tobio?"

"Yes." After a second too long, Kageyama adds, "Please sit."

The stranger's smile is bright, and he drops into the round chair before Kageyama's desk. He crosses his legs and leans back, spreading his shoulders along the back of the chair. "Mind if I smoke?" he asks, cigarette at his lips and lighter sparking before Kageyama can respond.

The end of the cigarette burns orange in the dim light. Kageyama's pulse refuses to calm down. He goes back to being orderly, finding his tongue with a, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm surprised you don't know." A thin line of smoke passes between pink lips. "What do you need?"

"Everything necessary, as far back as possible."

The man tilts his head back, his hair tickling the headrest. "You've heard about Ushijima Wakatoshi?"

News about that name has been circling in the papers, all front-page stuff. Hinata had forced him to catch up on the news, so Kageyama nods. Ushijima Wakatoshi was the head of Shiratorizawa, the multinational conglomerate. Papers described him as a firm, striking businessman. Papers also described him floating face down in his pool a week back. “Police are having trouble with that one. Who knows why when it’s just an accident.”

“Most people think so. The problem is the people who don’t, the ones who work in high places.”

A guy as powerful and rich as that’s bound to make some enemies, so it’s huge if he got knocked off. “Got a lead?”

“Not really. Just a story. Ushijima was found dead in his pool, along with one of the family servants. Looks bad, but dead is dead. Ushijima Senior is too old to be in business but still sharp enough to keep up on all her affairs. She’s got enough stored away. He didn’t have any kids, so all the money and company stocks go to his widow.”

“Sounds like the widow’s got the most to get out of it.”

“Oh, you bet. That’s why Ushijima Senior’s pretty mad about it. She’ll let the money go to family, sure, but she’s not letting the money go to someone who axed her darling son. That’s why the police are in such a fuss- they’ve been pressured to make absolutely sure it was really an accident.” Cigarette smoke mixes with the dust under the desktop lamp. ”That’s the thing; the widow didn’t do it.”

“You sound awfully sure.”

“I should be. You’re talking to him.” The man gives Kageyama a small smile that’s meant to stop hearts. “Ushijima Tooru. Although looking into two Ushijimas are bound to be confusing, so you can call me Oikawa instead. That’s what I was called before I got married.”

“Sorry for your loss.”

Oikawa takes a handkerchief and dabs at his eyes, and his nose comes out red. “Sorry, it’s just kind of unbelievable. I mean, we had our fights and he got on my nerves a lot, I mean a lot, but I didn’t- he seemed like he could live forever.” With a breath, he composes himself. “Crying doesn’t make him any less dead. It’s been a week, and I’m tired of the bureaucracy taking forever to clear my name. They showed up at the service today, so it’s clear they’re never going to let me cry in peace. It’ll be another five months before the MPD gets their act together and leaves me alone. They need an external source verifying what they already know. I didn’t do it. Clear my name.”

A big case just landed in his lap. Forget the new ceiling fan, this will put him in Suga’s playing field. “It’ll cost you 8000 yen a day, plus expenses.”

“Done.” Oikawa doesn’t even bat an eye as he pulls a  bundle of bills out of his kimono and flicks it on the table. “Is that all?”

“Should be. Probably.”

That dazzling smile hits harder paired with long eyelashes. “Perfect. Anyone gives you trouble- just tell them I sent you. I’ll contact you later in the week.”

Oikawa’s sandals clack on the floorboards as he exits, haori sweeping.

Kageyama’s stuck in his chair, electricity still tingling on his knees. His throat is closed shut, even after the footsteps have vanished down the steep staircase.

Hinata peeks in, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Oikawa’s really gone. He scampers in, still looking back. “Yikes. What a scary guy! He acted like he owned the place. Like a king-- a grand king!” He then turns to Kageyama’s dead man's stare and shoves his face right into Kageyama’s personal space.

Jumping back, Kageyama yells, “Hinata, you idiot! Don’t put your face so close!”

“You’re the one who’s acting like he just shot up! What’s going on, did he threaten you?”

“No!” Kageyama coughs to ease out the knot in his stomach. “He was a client. We’ve got a case. Dead husband.”

“Dead?” Hinata peers at him. “You mean dead-dead, not dead-once-we-give-them-the-info?”

“Dead-dead.”

Hinata bobs his head a little too fast. “Wow, Kageyama! This is huge! Our first big case! If you solve this, Suga’s going to so excited!”

Suga _is_ going to be excited, but Kageyama can’t break the news to him until he gets some results.

“We should check up on the details of the case. I’ll phone the MPD. You find out what you can.”

“I want a raise.”

Kageyama directs his scowl at Hinata. “And why’s that?”

“My paycheck says secretary but I’m not the one who chases away clients with my face.”

Kageyama slaps him with a notepad. “Then use your face for something good and find out some info!”

“Fine, fine! Slave driver!”

 

* * *

 

Ushijima Wakatoshi comes from old money. Real old money. His grandmother’s samurai blood, enough that people were still calling her ojou-sama even after the government seized half her land. She still held onto what she had left, and not even the Americans could take it away from her. Grandfather worked in steel, but it's unclear of how much of a patriot he was when money was involved. Their marriage was one of convenience and power, and together they established the Ushijima group, one that gave rise to Shiratorizawa.

Shiratorizawa operates in a wide range of segments, from renewable energy to financing. It's harder to name what they aren't involved in. As the only heir, Ushijima was raised all his life for conquest. Piano lessons, horseback riding, and sports practice were routine for him as a child. Rigorous study around the clock to create the perfect successor.

He attended Tokyo University's Faculty of Law and graduated with high marks from his professors and a recommendation from the university president. Succession into Shiratorizawa was inevitable, and he took up the mantle shortly after graduation. Under his leadership, business boomed and company stock prices remained high up.

He owned an estate with a fairly large manor. His body was found in the manor’s pool and preliminary reports from the police say that he’d likely consumed a large amount of alcohol. The official cause of death was due to drowning.

"Ushijima's death made waves," Hinata says, balancing a pencil between his nose and his upper lip. He’s not too good with numbers, or any sort of academic stuff. Family was poor, and he wasn’t smart enough to grab onto one of the hooks for the shiny industries making it big. But he’s a charmer, and people like his sunshine optimism enough to spill details. "Which I guess makes sense, if you think about how sudden it was. Doesn't look like the rest of Shiratorizawa wants to let Oikawa take up the reins unless it's absolutely necessary. I mean, Shiratorizawa is everywhere, and it's been generational so far. Ushijima didn't have kids, so the line ended with him."

"But Oikawa's a man."

Hinata gives Kageyama a look. "Adoption exists. But they didn't even do that. Too young, I guess? Looks like Ushijima married after college."

Kageyama picks up a photocopy of Ushijima's wedding photo. In all the pictures spread across the table, Ushijima has the same expression: stony and flat. But posing with Oikawa in his traditional dark kimono, the stiffness in his face looks just a bit softer.

 

* * *

 

Everything about this place screams chaos, from the phone calls in the background to the constant clack of typewriters. Kageyama feels every nerve shivering as he sits, back straight, in the black armchair overlooking an antique oak desk.

“About Wakatoshi? No better person to ask.” Behind the fine wooden desk and stacks of papers is Tendou Satori. He doesn't look anything like the CFO of an investment bank, even with a suit that costs more than Kageyama will ever have in his life. With big eyes and slicked back hair, he should have been ugly, but somehow it works on his face. "You know, I was his best friend. Weird, saying 'was'. Still doesn't feel right."

"Seems he always spoke highly of you."

"He was a nice guy. Could never figure out how to eat pudding cups, but everyone's got their quirks. We go way back, all the way to high school."

From what Kageyama's found, it seems more like Tendou latched onto Ushijima and dragged him everywhere. The excitable one and the stony one, a perfect duo. "I heard that."

"He was a great guy. Kind of dense, but dependable. Smart, too." Tendou shakes his head. "Terrible what happened. If you ask me, the police doesn't know what they're doing. No culprit? No way. But..." Tendou's round eyes find Kageyama, and he bends over his desk. "You seem to know a lot about Wakatoshi already. You just came to compare notes?"

"That's not the only reason. I was hoping you could tell me more about Oikawa."

"I thought Oikawa hired you."

"He did. But he didn't provide me with anything about himself."

"You're the PI. Shouldn't you do that on your own?"

"I didn't know both of them in Todai."

Tendou straightens up, satisfied. "Yep. Wakatoshi was in Law, I was in Economics, and Oikawa was in Science. Just because the faculties are separate doesn't mean we don't mix. Wakatoshi met Oikawa in a seminar and was really impressed. You had to really know him to notice it since he was never the most expressive guy, but he had it bad. I guess I can see it. Oikawa’s a looker, you know? He’s kind of nasty, but he’s smart and talented. That was enough for Wakatoshi. He always got soft around Oikawa, in his own way. They used to argue a lot, but I don’t think Wakatoshi ever saw it as arguing. Think he thought it was more of an intellectual debate. That’s love, I guess."

"He didn't have any bachelors then?"

"Wakatoshi? He had a ton. Oikawa I'm not sure, since he told me to fuck out of his personal life, but he always had a ton of girls on his tail. Don't think anything was serious though, or else Wakatoshi wouldn't have persisted. He wanted Oikawa to succeed and he wanted Oikawa himself- and what better way to get both than by marrying him? Anyway, he waited until they were done with uni, and then he dropped the proposal on Oikawa.”

Kageyama makes sure his expression doesn't change. “Was Oikawa happy?”

“That day? Not really sure. He looked like he’s been slapped. He always yelled at Wakatoshi, but after that he was a lot more quiet. Then they’re married a year later. Both families loved it. A smart, attractive couple. Wakatoshi was really happy about it, too. I don't think I've ever seen him happier. From what I know, Oikawa toned down a lot after their marriage was official, but you know- I was never sure if it was because he liked his new life or because he didn't.”

A pencil-thin secretary comes by and drops another fat folder on Tendou’s desk.

“What about enemies? Did Ushijima have any?”

Tendou quirks an eyebrow. “Once you get high up enough, you’ve got nothing but enemies. Partners wanted Shiratorizawa to profit, but they'll be piranhas once the structure collapses.”

Things are the same everywhere. People will swim like their life depends on it for a sliver of a cushy life, even if the chances are low.

"That's all I wanted to know. Thank you for your time."

Before Kageyama can leave, Tendou's voice cuts through the dark. “Say… you’re sure Oikawa hired you?”

“He did.”

“One of his messengers didn’t come to your office by mistake?”

“He came to my office himself.”

“I’ve never heard of you before.”

“You know me now.”

“Now, yeah.”

Kageyama blinks. “How come?”

“No reason. Just curious.”

 

* * *

 

Being before the rainy season doesn’t mean no rain, and it seems like the weather was shaping up for an early storm. Rain is coming down in sheets, leaving the outdoor vendors complaining, pulling all their wares under their awnings and tarps. No matter what the weather says, Kageyama’s running out of milk and he needs his fridge stocked.

One of the good things about the big city is that people don’t give a damn what you’re doing. The only ones who really cared were the law, and that’s only if you bothered them. Unless you’re doing something interesting. If Kageyama steps into a bar and orders milk, he’ll never hear the end of it, so he goes and makes his drinks himself.

Besides, milk’s good.

He didn’t expect much company on the streets, not when the weather’s like this. Even Hinata’s choosing to stay indoors today, groaning about his ruined exercise plans. Nothing but black umbrellas out today, and all Kageyama has to do is pull up one of his own to blend into the sparse crowd.

Getting the milk is easy, especially when the old woman that runs the corner store’s memorized his usual order three years back. Getting out is the problem, especially when he sees the group huddled by the corner.

Oikawa is recognizable in any crowd, pearl white in a sea of black. He’s with two other people, holding the only spot of color between them over his head. His back is towards Kageyama, but the streetlights put just enough light on his face to show that he’s had better conversations.

The old woman he’s talking to looks like she’s never smiled a day in her life. She’s far shorter than Oikawa, but the look she gives him is merciless. Kageyama can’t read her lips from this distance, but he can tell she’s spitting acid.

Before she can say more, the man by Oikawa’s side steps in, speaking evenly. The old woman turns those fury eyes on him, too, but it lacks impact. She says something to him, and he nods, stern and solemn. Then she about-faces, stepping into the black car by the curb through her own strength. The car hums past them into the night.

Oikawa waves after her, but the moment she’s out of sight, his hand freezes and drops, strings cut.

The man crosses the space between them, speaking whisper soft that not even the rain needs to hide it. Says something that makes Oikawa’s shoulders loosen up a little. Oikawa looks at him, eyes so wide and full of hope that Kageyama feels like he shouldn’t be interfering. Gets a low churn in his stomach too, something that knits his eyebrows and gets him so, so frustrated.

Then the man turns to him, frowning. Kageyama realizes that he isn’t behind the corner anymore, but stepped out into the open. Damn, curiosity got the better of him. He walks over casually, trying to hide his shaking hands with the dip of his umbrella.

“Detective. Poor weather to be out, don’t you think?”

Oikawa’s voice snags him by the neck. Kageyama’s suddenly aware of how his clothes are rumpled from putting on his jacket in a hurry, and how his breath still smells like lunchtime croquettes. He can’t turn around now, not when he’s been spotted, so he makes his way forward. Maybe the umbrella shade would hide the wrinkles.

“Needed some groceries,” he says, truthful. “And then I saw you.”

The man by Oikawa’s side is serious, with strength clear in his body and posture. With the collared shirt and tie, trousers, and vest, there’s no way he could be anything but one of the family servants. The Ushijimas were a traditionalist family, but it seems like the servants could fit into any style. “This is…”

“Iwaizumi Hajime. I take care of the estate. I also babysit this idiot.”

“Kageyama Tobio, PI.” Their handshake is firm.

Oikawa lets out a squawk that doesn’t fit his face. “I’m not an idiot!”

“You wore a white kimono to the funeral, and had a string of diamonds tie together your haori. The only thing that should be wearing white in a funeral is the corpse, you absolute moron. You’re lucky Ushijima-san didn’t gut you on the spot. She was about ready to, if there wasn’t a crowd.”

“But you would’ve stopped her, right, Iwa-chan?”

“You would’ve deserved it.”

Oikawa grumbles, but his eyes have a sheen to then that lights him up from the inside out. A frustration bubbles in Kageyama’s guts.

“Iwa-chan, I need to talk to the detective for a bit, privately.”

Iwaizumi looks between them. “You sure?”

Oikawa nods through a gleaming smile. Iwaizumi doesn’t look impressed.

“Alright. Goshiki should be on duty right now, so just call the house when you’re done.”

“O☆k.”

It’s hard to tell Iwaizumi’s age, but his eyes are weathered when he turns to Kageyama. “It’s been nice meeting you. And thanks for taking the case.”

As Iwaizumi walks towards the line of cars a few blocks back, Kageyama asks, “Your butler?”

“Mm, he’s mostly that. Usually he picks me up from work.”

“Work?”

“You didn’t think I was a house husband, did you?” Oikawa spins his umbrella in one hand, sending droplets flying. “Walk with me.”

Kageyama forgets about the weight of his groceries and breathes out an “Okay.”

It’s no weather for a casual stroll, but they make their way through the streets in silence. Streetlights and bright neon signs flicker above them, washing streams of color across their umbrellas. Neither of them say a word, and Kageyama isn’t going to take the first step, not yet.

Oikawa looks regal, great coat draped over his shoulders, filling out space where his tuxedo’s built-in shoulderpads don’t cover. Even if they aren’t that far apart in height, Oikawa’s perfect posture makes him stretch up tall towards the sky. He exhales mist through his mouth, each breath drifting through unchapped lips. Brown eyelashes- real brown, the russet color of his hair’s no dye- flutter over smooth skin and patches of shadow under his eyes.

“You must work hard,” Kageyama offers, breaking his own rule.

“More than you think.”

“You work at…”

“I have my own company. Pharmaceuticals. It’s part of Shiratorizawa, but really, it’s all mine. Dealing with the day to day isn’t so bad.” A groan climbs in pitch. “But in-laws, they’re the worst. Terrible, terrible people. Guess Ushiwaka-chan’s stoniness was hereditary.”

That must be Oikawa’s nickname for his late husband. “Bad time?”

“You know how it is.”

Kageyama gives Oikawa a vacant look, all genuine.

“Really?” Oikawa asks, half-smiling. “Looks like the great detective is all single.”

“Never really found the time.” Or the right people.

“Keep frowning like that and you’ll be forever alone.”

Kageyama draws strength from his core and mutters a hasty, “Not true.”

“Denial, denial. Since you’re here, you can give me your update. How convenient, I don’t even have to drop by your office.”

“An update.”

Oikawa trades Kageyama’s blank stare for a smug smile, as the streetlight patterns crescent moons over his eyes. “All good detectives give their clients updates once in a while.”

Kageyama flushes, grateful that the shadows of his umbrella keep the details off his face. “I haven’t found the culprit yet, if there even is a culprit.”

“I know. Even the MPD’s got their hands up. I’m not looking for a miracle.” Oikawa leans in, and Kageyama notices that he’s too close to Oikawa’s throat. “Just answers.”

“I can give you a small update.” Kageyama swallows. “I’m in the middle of constructing a profile of your husband. He seemed like an honorable man.”

Oikawa’s long fingers find a cigarette. “He wasn’t perfect, but he was my husband.”

Kageyama lists what he’s found almost robotically, all trivial things that Oikawa would have known for years. The longer he speaks, the more he realizes that this is the first time that he’s been able to give his findings uninterrupted by angry objections.

Oikawa’s listening to him behind tired, half lidded eyes, smoke curling around his face. His hand catches the light off a streetlamp, turning his pale skin pure white. Crescent moon nails just scraping the length of the cigarette. A hollow, distant gaze.

“You’re not listening.”

Just a fraction, Oikawa’s fingers slip on the umbrella handle. “I just can’t believe he’s gone. From always to never, what a change.” He wipes his eyes with his sleeve, leaving a small trail of beige spots on the cuff.

He doesn’t know what Oikawa is feeling, and he’s not going to pretend like he does. Kageyama’s life was a hastily written birth certificate with an unknown on the father’s side, and a string of bad relationships-- a void until Suga came along. Oikawa’s face, nose red, eyes crinkling— that’s something Kageyama doesn’t want to see. “I’ll make sure the truth comes out,” he says. “So until then, believe in me.”

Oikawa pauses, eyes going sharp to search Kageyama all over. He laughs, and the sound is enough to make Kageyama’s heart stop. “Sure thing, detective.”

The floor is more attractive than usual, as Kageyama traces old gum and discolorations on the sidewalk. Above him, the rain continues to fall, pattering against turquoise and orange. Down come the questions: Why did Oikawa seek him out? How does Oikawa stay so collected in the face of a tragedy, with only a few tears? What perfume did he use to smell so strongly of chrysanthemums beneath the smoke? Are his hands soft of calloused from a long day’s work?

“So that’s it?”

“For now, yeah.”

“Not so bad for a few days.” Cigarette smoke flutters as it’s beaten by the rain. “I was right to choose you. You’ll figure it out.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You should know better than that, Tobio-chan.” Oikawa fits his umbrella along the crook of his shoulder, gives a little wave, and vanishes into the crowd.

 

* * *

 

The office is mostly dark, and what few bits of light come crawling in get flicked all over the place as soon as they hit the broken fan. Chatter’s still coming up from the street level, sounds like some teenagers chatting about the latest thing on TV.

Kageyama’s not listening. He’s got a drink in one hand, his feet up on his desk, and his head thrown back on the headrest.

Darkness is shifting shut.

Oikawa always looks impeccable: put together, formal, and divine. How could anyone look so perfect and get away with it?

Ushijima went riding regularly, so would Oikawa have joined him? Oikawa’s uniform would have to be white, just like everything else he owns, from his coat to his boots. He’d look good in that. He’d look good in anything.

His outfit would have to be tailored to him, down to every seam. Fitting breeches tight on his thighs, collared shirt pressed up against his neck. He’d smile like he always does, sharp enough to cut through flesh, and call out, “Tobio-chan.”

He hates that name, makes him sound like an elementary schooler, but he wouldn’t mind being called it again. Especially from that reed-thin voice.

Power, power, power. There’s no way that Oikawa, being from where he’s from and dressing the way he does, would ever let someone boss him around. Kageyama might be able to get an objection or two out, but Oikawa would do whatever he wants on his own.

He’s fine with that. Oikawa is the sun in a patch of shade, and Kageyama can’t take his eyes off him. Not a moment away, from his elegant fingers wrapped in leather down to his white boots. He’d plant one boot on the side of Kageyama’s chair, dark eyes flashing, riding crop at the ready, about to say, “Watch and see how it’s done.” A slap of leather on leather.

Except such a perfect sound couldn’t be real.

Kageyama comes out of it to an unamused look beneath fiery red hair. “Welcome back,” Hinata says.

Kageyama ignores his tone. “I told you to knock before you come in here.”

“I did. Shows what you know.” Hinata rests his chin on his hand, gets that look in his eyes that makes anyone shrivel. “You don’t listen to me half the time but still, when you get like this, I do this thing where I see how long it takes for you to notice things once you start daydreaming.”

“What’s the time this round?”

“Too long.”

“And?”

“It means that you don’t pay attention one day, and someone’s going to end up cracking your head in.”

Kageyama takes a deep breath through his nose, and holds it for a couple of seconds. Hinata grew up around plenty of day laborers and flophouses, so he’s gotten used to people trying to push him around, and even more used to holding his ground. Once he gets like this, there’s no deterring him. “It’s not like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then what--” Hinata cuts himself short, then a sneaky smile spreads across his face. “Hm? Oho? You’re not actually--? You are. You really are.”

“Shut up, Hinata you idiot!”  
But Hinata’s already halfway to the door, no doubt getting his shoes on to sprint down the street and give Yachi the latest news.

Kageyama grabs some ingredients for a tiger’s milk cocktail and downs the whole thing in one gulp.

 

* * *

 

 “Heard you got a good case!”

Suga sounds just as cheery as Kageyama remembers it. Sugawara Koushi is famous for many things, but his reassuring voice and his willingness to work himself to the bone were at the top of the list. One of the very few prosecutors who couldn’t care less about his conviction rate, as long as the truth hit whoever it needed to, and hard. A dying breed these days.

Kageyama doesn’t ask how Suga knows. Hinata’s always told him he’s rude, but he knows it’s polite to not push the people he likes too hard. “It’s not such big news,” he says, trying to play cool.

“Nice, congrats! All your hard work paid off. You really did it.”

It feels like he’s young again, listening to Suga go over the details of all the cases he had racked up. He was always patient and while he wasn’t a genius, he knew exactly what to say and how to say it.

“Thank you. I hope you’re doing well, too.”

Suga’s laugh is merry, but he gets that teasing edge in his voice when he’s about to drop the polite refreshing act and let the real Suga out. “Daichi’s trying to get me on another case. You know how he is.”

The top investigator of the first division wouldn’t come poking his nose into Suga’s office unless he knew of the type of man Suga was. Real men of justice, true warriors in a sea of cowards.

“I’ll wait for the details. I know all about confidentiality. Still,” his voice drops into something lower and serious, “bigger things get, the more dangerous things get too.”

Kageyama keeps his breath steady. He wanted to learn. “Right.”

“Don’t forget to take care of yourself.” Someone speaks behind Suga, too far away for Kageyama to hear, and Suga yells, “You worry too much!” Back into the phone, he says, “Daichi says check backgrounds and deals. You know the drill. And don’t irritate your allies!”

“I’ll try…”

“You still have the gift I gave you, right?”

When Suga had to pack up and go halfway across the country for a reappointment, he left Kageyama with two things: his phone number and the portable recorder Kageyama keeps under his desk. “Of course.”

“Good, good. You never know when you’ll need it. I won’t ask the details, but I know one of those always comes in handy when it comes to big cases. Who knows? Maybe I’ll hear about it on TV one day.”

That would be real nice. “Yeah, maybe.”

Kageyama hangs up the landline with a click and goes over how to play this. Sawamura’s advice was pretty good, but there’s no way that the Ushijimas would let Kageyama anywhere near their business records, even with Oikawa’s name behind him. There’s no way he can do this through the regular channels.

He waits until Hinata is halfway through his bowl of noodles. “Can you ask Kenma to look into something?”

Hinata looks up, cheeks full of broth. “Yeah. What is it?”

“I want to have him look into something. Paid, of course.” On Oikawa’s tab. There’s no way that they could afford Kenma’s fee, even if he sweetens the deal with Hinata’s presence.

“Probably, but the only way I’m getting him out of his bunker is if I take him out to dinner.”

“Can you do it or not?”

“Fine, fine. But you’re putting that dinner down as a business expense too!”

 

* * *

 

If being crammed into a narrow alleyway barely wide enough for one person is making the man waiting for them uncomfortable, he doesn’t show it.

“Kenma!” Hinata rushes forward, ever energetic.

“Shouyou.” It’s hard to tell if Kenma looks like a uni student or young freelancer, but either way he’s unremarkable. The only way to distinguish him from anyone else was the bad blonde dye job he refuses to get rid of. He doesn’t smile around many people, but Hinata’s a rare exception.

It’s hard to get Kenma to go anywhere, but saying Hinata’s coming with him is good enough motivation. Not like Kenma isn’t constantly on the edge anyway. Kenma’s an info broker for the Nekoma-kai, which runs from Tokyo down to Hiroshima. Kageyama’s good at digging up dirt, but Kenma’s a pro.

“So did you find anything?”

The look Kenma gives him is a lot flatter than the look he gives Hinata. He pulls a thick folder from his messenger bag and passes it over. “I compiled all the people Shiratorizawa has made deals with in the past few months, including deals that are still on the table.”

“You’re amazing, Kenma!”

Hinata’s marvelling is usually enough to get Kenma flustered, but Kageyama’s never seen him so serious before.

“What did you find?” he asks, even though his mind is screaming for him to do anything but.

“Some under the table deals, some things that will make Shiratorizawa even richer than they already are.” Kenma’s using that dead tone he takes whenever he wants to put himself far, far away from something. “But most importantly, it looks like Ushijima was talking with Inarizaki lately. It looks like they’ve even been talking about a deal, but from how it looks, seems like Shiratorizawa gets the better cut.”

A prickle is scraping Kageyama’s bones.

Hinata, ever made of air, asks, “Inari-what?”

“They’re a multinational global shipping company- people you really don’t want to mess with. With America and the Soviets going at it, Inarizaki is making massive profit in the arms trade. They’re based in Japan, but it doesn’t mean they’re a Japanese company, so they don’t have to listen to the constitution.”

“Ohhh,” Hinata moans, “I don’t like this.”

Kenma looks at his watch. “I’ve stayed too long. Whatever you do with that information is up to you.”

A long second passes, and Kageyama tries again. “Do you think you can--?”

“It’s up to you. Shouyou, I’ll call you when I’m ready for dinner.“ And then Kenma’s gone, scampering back down the alley and turning into a nobody in the crowd.

 

* * *

 

Kenma was never the biggest talker to begin with, but he sings like a nightingale around Hinata. To shut him up meant someone had to get to him first, or he’s dealing with something way out of his league. The Nekoma-kai’s no pushover, but in the end they’re just a crime racket. Getting into something like the war trade is something that even they can’t compete with.

He needs a place to think, and a fresh stock of milk in his fridge. Plenty of complaints from the neighborhood with cash lining their wallets means the street to the market has been repaved. It’s smooth concrete under Kageyama’s shoes, and only gets smoother once the foot traffic picks up and the buildings get higher.

Halfway to the store he hears, “Hey, got a moment?” It’s a man with tired eyes, wrapped in a casual shirt and slacks. A handsome face, but not enough to be striking. The gray dyed fringe is stark against his dark clothes. “Think you dropped something.”

What could he have dropped? There's nothing in his pockets, only the keys to his office and a couple of bills. Kageyama looks down, in time to see a knee collide with his stomach. A bit of his lunch hits his throat, and he crumples like a toy tower.

The man’s stare is implacable. Except now there’s two identical stares bearing down on him. “You’re not going anywhere except with us,” says the other one, like he’s excited. A pair of brass knuckles nudge against his throat. “No questions. The more you ask, the more I play with these. Get it?”

 

* * *

 

“The Miyas were probably rough with you,” says a toneless voice. “Sorry about that.”

Kageyama sorts together the percussion in his head to lift his chin up. He’s in an office somewhere, high up from the skyline out the wide windows, and nicely furnished. Big money.

There’s a man sitting on a leather sofa with a drink in his hand honeyed enough to probably be bourbon. His manicured nails and rose gold watch speaks that his profession doesn’t require much beyond shaking hands and reading papers. He’s got a head full of gray hair that doesn’t match his young face. Dead dark eyes, like he doesn’t need to even bother with the scene in front of him.

His nose is probably still bleeding, but Kageyama crawls so that he’s at least upright. “You’re,” he struggles to remember all the faces from the photos back in the office. “Kita Shinsuke?”

“That’s right.”

The president of Inarizaki himself. Kageyama’s not sure if he’s hit the jackpot or if he’s going to be a dead man.

“I’ll be honest with you. I don’t like people poking around in my business. I’m not sure if you’re a whistleblower, or just trying to play one, so I’ll make it clear. Back off.”

Red is dripping onto his pants. Definitely a nosebleed. “I’m not here to whistleblow… whatever it is you’re doing. But you’re just the man I wanted to see.” Kageyama tries standing and feels his blood pressure drop 30 points. He looks like a damn fool stumbling to the nearest chair, but he isn’t going to talk from the floor. “What was your deal with Shiratorizawa?”

“Big question. Who hired you? And don’t tell me it’s confidential.”

“Oikawa Tooru.”

“Oika… ah. Ushijima Wakatoshi’s husband.” Kita sips at his bourbon, fox eyes studying Kageyama. “Interesting. Why did he send a no-name like you? He knows he can just visit us anytime.”

“I’m not a message boy. I’m a PI.” Kageyama sniffs, and blood trickles down the back of his throat. “Inarizaki and Shiratorizawa have been feuding for generations. You’re both old families, and never got along. But the two of you were going to make a business deal, except it’s less profitable on your side. Ushijima seemed to be the type of man who wouldn’t budge. Family grudge and now there’s money involved. What better reason to kill someone?”

“You think I ordered a hit on Ushijima?”

“Couldn’t be anyone else.”

Kita quirks a smile, too foreign for his face. “Alright, I’ll be honest with you, because Oikawa’s going to be a good partner of ours soon, and nobody’s going to believe you if you snitch.” He finishes off the last of the bourbon in his glass and places it on the armrest. “You’re right, the deal we had set up with Shiratorizawa was less profitable for us- but only initially. Long term, we’d break even. Even longer, we’d be making good profit. Ushijima approached us with the deal, not the other way around.”

Kageyama’s not sure if his jaw is slack because of Kita’s words, or because the twins roughed him up too hard in the backseat. “So what does that mean?”

“It means we didn’t kill Ushijima. His death actually makes things harder for us, because now we have to negotiate terms with someone completely out of the loop.”

You don’t off your good business partners, especially not before the deal is finalized. Kageyama’s spine hits the backrest, and he feels the soreness from every dull punch spring up tenfold. There goes his guesswork, and there goes his lead. Back to square one.

Kita tilts his head. “Is that all you wanted to know?”

“Yeah.” Kageyama’s voice doesn’t even sound like it’s coming from his body.

“Good. Now if you don’t mind, get out of my office.”

 

* * *

 

When Kageyama comes to, he’s between some trash cans like a piece of garbage. His brain’s exploding with fireworks between the clatter of footsteps on the street. The twins were used to this racket, for sure.

“You’re a mess, Tobio-chan. How long are you going to sit there like a dog?”

Spots are still making a racket across his eyes, but a strong hand fixes itself under his ribs and lifts him up. He’s vaguely aware of being helped somewhere, but his mind’s full of thick smoke. “Oikawa-san,” he mumbles, mouth still full of blood.

“You drop dead across the street from my office and you think I won’t notice? Sloppy.”

Nobody’s at the front desk today, not while Hinata’s on a dinner date with Kenma in a downtown ramen joint. It’s just him and Oikawa.

Oikawa sets him down in his chair, and drags another one close by. A hand touches his face, forces it to the side. “Hm.” Oikawa’s voice comes with a troubled treble. “Busted lip, a lot of split skin. Your left eye’s all swollen. Someone jumped you?”

“The job of a PI is never easy,” Kageyama says. It’s a lot cooler in his head than out of his mouth.

He cracks his eyes open and keeps them focused on the pillar of white before him. Oikawa comes into view slowly, first with his smooth face, and then the halo of mink fur around his neck. He still hasn’t taken off his long coat yet, but between the white is a tuxedo, still white but slightly darker in the shadows. Fancier and more beautiful than Kageyama will ever be.

“Do you have a first aid kit anywhere?”

“Got a shelf full of alcohol.”

Oikawa sighs, his face wrinkling in disgust. “Barbaric.” The cold hand leaves to grab a bottle of vodka off the shelf. Into a glass, and then right over Kageyama’s face. All the fresh wounds burn like fire, kicks him right in the pants for him to leap up screaming.

“There you go. You’re not too dead after all.”

Kageyama gives Oikawa his best sour look.

“Don’t frown like that. I’ll give you a real drink, make it up to you. Have any syrups?”

“Top shelf.” Hinata always likes his drinks with some flavor.

Oikawa plucks some containers off the shelves, passing over the brandy, glass clinking. Kageyama’s not really listening; he’s watching the white silhouette flit around the office. His vision adjusts in nanosecond bursts and Oikawa slowly refines himself, from the curves of his soft hair to the mink around his neck. Long jacket swishing behind him as he moves, like a ghost tail fluttering.

“Who roughed you up, Tobio-chan?”

Inarizaki knows not to mess with Oikawa, but Kageyama’s free game. Any more trouble he stirs up might hurt Oikawa in the long run. “Just some thugs, that’s all.”

“Mmhm. How much do you want? Say stop when you’re ready.”

Kageyama rolls his head towards the desk, where Oikawa is pouring flavored syrup into a tall glass. He’s not a fan of sugar, so after a few moments he groans, “Stop.”

Oikawa keeps pouring in syrup.

“Oikawa-san, I said…”

Still going.

“S--St…”

When half the glass is filled with syrup, Oikawa finally puts the bottle down. He plucks some vodka off the shelf and stirs the drink with a long finger. He flows back into the chair, pushing the glass forward. “Bottom’s up.”

The drink burns worse than the vodka to the face, and tastes like medicine to resuscitate someone from a massive sugar withdrawal. Kageyama wants to spit it out, but he can’t do that in front of Oikawa. Bottom’s up indeed, as he swallows the rest of the drink. He’s going to get one hell of a stomachache later on.

“Not bad, right?”

“It was terrible.”

“Shows what you know,” Oikawa grumbles.

A leather shoe taps him just once, and Kageyama looks down. Something’s off about that tuxedo stripe on Oikawa’s leg. He frowns at it, white on white, but when he sees it, his tongue goes flat in his mouth.

Oikawa’s so fair that Kageyama almost didn’t recognize the mesh on his pants, going all the way up his leg beneath his coat. Hardly something that would be visible unless you looked for it, but now it’s all Kageyama can see. Even if Oikawa’s slender overall, he’s by no means delicate, not with the muscle bulking up his leg.

Looks like a heartbreaker, with the strength to break a few bones. That knot in Kageyama’s guts just isn’t going away.

“Tobio-chan,” Oikawa bends towards him, invading his space with one smooth arc. “You’re not telling me everything, are you?” Leaning over pushes his coat back some more, and Kageyama feels his throat tighten as his eyes follow the thin path of mesh. It isn’t just up his leg, it’s all the way up, hooking right over the hip bone.

Suga warned Kageyama about this, but he’d always thought it would be from a woman in a low cut dress, not from the most beautiful widow he met in his life.

It’s a battle. Which is going to bust first, Kageyama’s mouth or his pants?

“I don’t want to give you any false leads,” he manages to choke out.

“How honorable,” Oikawa speaks half teasing, half lilting, all business. “You know, I promise not to go after anyone until you make your final report.” Every time he shifts, Oikawa’s skin presses right up against the mesh.

Kageyama just might die.

“I can’t,” he chokes out. Trying to look away from Oikawa’s long legs and strip of mesh. Anywhere else. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Even a hint isn't bad,” Oikawa hums. “But alright. I look forward to your final report, Tobio-chan.”

Kageyama waits until Oikawa leaves, and then lets out the biggest gasp that he’s ever taken in his whole life.

 

* * *

 

“How come I smell flowers?”

“No reason.”

“Uh-huh. The Grand King was here, wasn’t he?”

“Does it matter?”

“You better not have made out on my desk.”

“Nobody,” Kageyama growls through gritted teeth, “made out. On anyone’s desk.”

“Okay good. You know, I don’t really get why you’re so hung up about a guy you barely know.” At Kageyama’s blank look, Hinata adds, “I mean, you don’t. You haven’t looked into him once while you’ve had the case. That’s kind of an important thing you should do, right?”

 

* * *

 

The coming rains have turned the inside of the place musty, and cast an ever-changing sheen over the windows. Cigarette smoke swirls against patrons’ knees and washes the air in a shade of gray.

Kawanishi looks like he hasn’t slept in years. It’s hard to tell whether he looks eighteen or thirty. He stirs his coffee, focusing on the motion to keep himself awake. “I work for the Ushijima estate, have done so for years. They’re strict, but the pay is good. It’s huge, and they need all the people they can get. Sure, they hire people who don’t have their full documents in order, but it’s not like they stiff them. Once you have enough money, you don’t need to worry about not giving people their share.”

“And what did you do?”

“Me? I was in charge of the gardens. The young master never had to do hard labor a day in his life, but he really liked plants, you know? Was very insistent on coming down and helping out himself. It’s not like he had to, Kenjirou and I were enough. It’s a little weird to have your boss help you out with your job, but it’s not like he ordered us around. He trusted our judgment, and isn’t that a rarity these days?” Kawanishi takes a deep breath, his neutral expression lost in a film of sorrow. “He didn’t deserve what happened.”

“Did anything seem unusual about the head of the house that day?”

“That day? Not really, no more than usual. There was going to be another function at the house in a few days so I was making sure that everything looked cut and perfect. I found out what happened when Iwaizumi gathered us all and Kindaichi wasn’t there.”

Kindaichi was the servant also found in the pool next to Ushijima. The MPD database didn’t have anything about him on file, and his resume was a string of temporary employment. “Tell me about Kindaichi.”

Kawanishi shrugged. “I mean, we didn’t work together. You’ve seen the place, right? It’s big enough that I only know some of the servants from the changing rooms. Kindaichi was one of the pool boys- nah, he’s the actual pool boy. Iwaizumi just gets harassed into the position by Oikawa half the time. Kindaichi cleaned it up, made sure the chlorine’s good, and went between there and the kitchens whenever the couple’s out for a swim. Pool’s far enough away from the house for some privacy, so he got a workout going back and forth. But he liked the couple, so he didn’t mind the work.” Kawanishi sips at his coffee for the first time since the waitress dropped it in front of him. “He was optimistic, a nice try-hard. Kind of dumb, Kenjirou’s insults would go straight over his head. But he was a hard worker, and nobody disliked him. Thing is, he was always super nervous about working by the pool.”

“Why?”

“Have you seen that thing? It’s full length, and deep. The couple likes their workouts, and likes diving too. Shallow end’s a meter, deep end’s three. And Kindaichi never learned how to swim. That’s why he’d always skirt the edges and use the longest tools to clean.”

One slip, and he’s a dead man. Sure enough, Kindaichi’s fears were perfectly warranted. “What about the couple? What were they like?”

“They’re both very intelligent. The young master was a busy man, always working, but he’s fair when he’s home. I don’t have any complaints about Oikawa. He seems unpleasant- kind of is actually, but he’s very attentive to the staff. If he wants us to do something, he gives us enough time to complete them. The only times he’s ever caught off guard is when there are surprise guests, and they treat him like arm candy for the five hundredth time. But overall, he treats us well. They both did.”

“And their act together?”

Kawanishi pauses, finger tapping idly on the mug as he collects his thoughts. “The young master’s parents were very attentive of Oikawa when he first married into the family. Especially the young master’s mother, she was very insistent that Oikawa uphold the Ushijima ideals. Not like he really had to learn a lot, since he came from a good family beforehand. She was very particular with him, and she’s as stiff as a board. Early days were rough.”

“And later?”

“Well, they argued. The young master was often out at work. Oikawa works too, but his hours were much more normal. When they were together, they fought a lot. Never anything serious, but it’s not unusual to hear shouts late in the night, mostly Oikawa. The young master doesn’t raise his voice. We stayed out of it.” Kawanishi’s lips twitch. “He never did it to the staff, but Oikawa’s the perceptive type. All the little things that the young master didn’t do right he remembered and didn’t forget. He’s that kind of person. The young master though? Oikawa was his world. Weird couple, don’t know how they stayed together that long. But, they never treated us bad, and that’s what matters.”

Kawanishi yawns. Coming off his early shift, his energy’s already been run into the ground. Kageyama wants to push him more, but he doubts Kawanishi is going to stick around for much longer. So instead he asks, “Anyone who might know a little better?”

“Sure. If you want to know about anything that happens in that house, Iwaizumi can tell you.”

 

* * *

 

The Ushijima estate sprawls for so long that Kageyama loses track where he is five minutes in. The manor looms wide and weighty, sloped ceilings and long hallways speaking of a long history, undisturbed by history that has since modernized the area around it. A lone, solitary castle boasting of a bloodline going back centuries.

Iwaizumi is waiting for him in the foyer. He’s dressed in the Ushijima family uniform, but he doesn’t wear gloves like the other servants Kageyama had spotted on the way in. He holds himself effortlessly, clearly used to both hard labor and housework. “Looking for Oikawa? Sorry you’ve come all this way, but he isn’t here.”

“Actually, I was looking for you. Mind if we talk a bit?”

If Iwaizumi is surprised, he doesn’t show it. “Sure.”

He brings Kageyama to one of the open rooms, high ceilings with a lot of books lining the wall. One of the servants brings over some green tea, okashi, and some tofu for Iwaizumi. They sit by the corner, visible enough that people can see them, but far enough away that nobody can eavesdrop.

Iwaizumi sits down slowly, moving with a kind of grace befitting the great manor. He picks at the tofu, restraining himself from devouring it all at once. “Sorry if Oikawa’s a little prickly. He’s always been like that. Shitty personality.”

Kageyama blinks at that. Iwaizumi had been forward in the rain, but there’s no servant that openly badmouths their master, not if they want to keep their job and their reputation. “Oikawa is,” he says in almost a whisper, “energetic.”

“That’s one way of putting it, yeah.”

Iwaizumi’s got a handsome face, and the strength to compliment it. With the way his clothes just manage to hug his form, how fit he is becomes obvious. Iwaizumi quirks an eyebrow at Kageyama staring, so Kageyama quickly says, “You work out a lot.”

Iwaizumi sighs, like he’s heard it a hundred times before. “Wish I could be prouder. It’s because of my uniform, right? I’ve asked over and over again to get something that fits my size, and I keep getting denied. Something about loose clothes catching on something. Bullshit. I just need something that fits right, okay?”

“Then…”

“Bet you thought I was elegant, right?” Iwaizumi shoots him a grin. “Sorry to disappoint. I just can’t move well in this thing.”

Kageyama nearly chokes on his tea.

“Anyway, what do you want? I doubt you came all the way out here just to say hello.”

Finding his composure with a cough, Kageyama says. “I just wanted to confirm some things about the case.”

Iwaizumi chews around a piece of tofu, inclining his head slightly enough to almost be a nod.

“You found the bodies?”

“Second to. Oikawa found them first. He was an absolute mess, it took me ten minutes to calm him down. Can’t say I blame him. Sure, he and Ushijima argued, but it’s one thing to get mad at someone and another to find them dead.”

“They argued a lot?”

Iwaizumi sighs, like he’s been holding it in too long. “I don’t like talking bad about the dead, but I know why you’re here. Ushijima was the straightforward type, a little _too_ straightforward. He didn’t sugarcoat anything and gave it to you frank. As an employee, that’s good because he’d tell me exactly what he wanted and what he didn’t. As a husband…” He trails off, going distant. “Oikawa’s a little sensitive. He’s smart, but he doesn’t like to be told things in a certain way. It frustrated him a lot, having Ushijima talk to him like that. Oikawa’s not really open- he wants you to figure things out. Waiting for apologies that would never come. He… took it hard, I think.”

“That’s bad.”

“Listen, Ushijima wasn’t a terrible guy. Did he get on people’s nerves because he has no brain to mouth filter? Yeah, absolutely. Didn’t mean he did it on purpose. I don’t really think he ever noticed how much he’d upset Oikawa, not up until the day he died.”

“Sounds like you know them both pretty well.”

Iwaizumi shrugs. The tight shirt he’s wearing ripples as he does so. Kageyama suddenly feels the urge to work out again. “It’s my job to know everything that happens around here. I like to think I do my job pretty well. But Oikawa and I, we go back.”

Kageyama understands in a moment-- you don’t need professionalism around your old friends. They know you too well to fall for your masks.

“You think Oikawa didn’t like the marriage that whole time?”

“Mm, hard to say. Oikawa tried, I think. No- he definitely did. But they just spoke different languages. If they managed to get through to each other, it would’ve worked really well, you know? But they didn’t, and Oikawa was miserable.” Iwaizumi sighs, running a hand through his spiky hair. “It killed me to see him like that every day. It just kept getting worse the longer it went on. The more parties, the more drinks, the worse it got.”

“Did Ushijima drink a lot?”

“In general? Not really. But he’d do it when Oikawa wanted him to. Didn’t believe in letting his husband drink alone.” He sighs. “Oikawa said they were drinking a lot that day. All it took was a slip, I guess.”

Realization rips through Kageyama like a razor.

Iwaizumi manages the servants’ schedules and knows what’s happening on the estate at all times. He’s comfortable enough with Ushijima to lure him to the pool without raising suspicion. He’s strong enough to drown two people if necessary. All it would take it a good shove.

The only other option is impossible.

He doesn’t get it. It’s clear that Iwaizumi doesn’t follow Oikawa with his eyes the way Kageyama does. Him, Oikawa could drop a bomb on him and he’d be fine with it. But when you didn’t have those stars behind your eyes, that much responsibility’s just trouble. “You take care of Oikawa, right? That sounds like a lot of work. Why bother?”

Iwaizumi’s frown goes deeper, and he leans forward, his voice dropping low to the table. “Oikawa hired you, so I’ll be honest. I never had a lot growing up. But Oikawa’s family was government- high up enough to live comfortably, but low enough that America didn’t bother them after the war. Me, I had a butterfly net, a baseball bat, and a radio, while Oikawa got different gifts for every holiday. But we were friends, and he always invited me over. Things changed when we got older- he went off to uni, I did whatever jobs would get me some cash. We still talked, and I listened to all his whining, but you know, different worlds.

“Economy boom or not, I didn’t have the family name to actually get into the businesses that were making it big. Did I work hard? You bet I did. Did I make enough to be comfortable? No. So Oikawa comes and offers me a job. He’s getting married, and he wants to have some servants of his own. I tell him to stick it up his ass, but he’s insistent.

“Oikawa’s my best friend. He gives me a place to stay, and a good salary. He could’ve picked up and forgotten all about me as soon as he got engaged, but he didn’t. He stuck by me, and I’m sticking by him. Even if I have to clean his fucking pool. That enough for you?”

Kageyama feels like he’s touched on something he shouldn’t have. “That’s enough, yeah.”

 

* * *

 

“Yahoo, calling for my weekly check-in.”

It takes Kageyama a long moment to breathe. When he does again, his voice comes out thin. “It hasn’t been a week yet.”

“Details, details. Did you have fun at my house? Massively daunting, isn’t it?

“It’s nice.”

Oikawa scoffs on the other end. Through the telephone, it sounds more like a crackle. “So?”

Expectancy is clamped to every word. If Kageyama says something smart, then surely Oikawa would be proud. Get excited, bring back that light flutter in his voice. Anything from Oikawa’s throat would spark Kageyama’s heart and keep it burning. “This is just a guess. And you can’t do anything until I publish the results.”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

“I might have found something.”

“Oh?” comes the twinkle on the other end.

“It really is just a guess.”

“Tell me, tell me.”

“It…” Kageyama’s voice swells, just on the edge of cracking. “It might have been Iwaizumi.”

A pocket of empty sound bursts in his ear.

His first discovery, now to present the evidence. “He’s strong enough to, and he worries a lot for you. He’s your servant, not Ushijima’s. He’d want to protect you.”

Nothing but silence comes from the other end. Kageyama has to tap the phone to make sure he’s still connected.

“Iwa-chan. You think it’s Iwa-chan.”

“It makes the most sense.”

“You think so, hm?” Oikawa’s cheeriness has plunged to absolute zero. Kageyama freezes in place, as ice creeps up his fingers and tethers the phone to his ear. “Here’s some thoughts of mine. If you think you’re going to spout lies to me, you’re dead wrong.”

“I-”

“Am being paid to find the truth, if there is a truth. Not spout nonsense.”

“I am! I’m looking hard!”

“Well, figure it out,” Oikawa snarls, and cuts the connection.

 

* * *

 

“Have I ever told you I need a raise? Because I do. Big time.”

Kageyama looks up over the edge of his newspaper at Hinata. He’s read the same paragraph three times in the last fifteen minutes. “Why do you need a raise this time?”

“Because if I have to see you daydream about the Grand King one more time, it’s still too early.”

“I’m not daydreaming now!”

“Not now, no. But when you think I can’t hear you in the office, you will.”

A flush goes across Kageyama’s face, all the way to his ears. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hinata gives him a look, the one that Kageyama can never tell is an invitation or a prelude to a fight. “Look, I know I’m not too smart, okay? I can’t think that deep, and fine, whatever. Doesn’t mean I’m blind. How long are you going to just sit there, anyway? You talked to everyone you needed to, and unless Ushijima’s going to rise out of his grave, you’ve got everything you need. You’re just being dumb.”

“I don’t need a dumbass to tell me I’m dumb.”

“You’re so- what’s the word Yachi calls it- biased!”

“A good PI isn’t biased.”

“And you think I didn’t catch you looking at the Grand King’s legs? You’re not stealthy.” Hinata’s eyes find Kageyama’s, searching for a piece of him deep down. “You’re stalling.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! You really are, aren’t you?” The harshness in his tone makes it no question. “He’s a client, he’ll leave as soon as you give him the answer. You don’t want him to. You want him to keep coming here forever, but he won’t. And you know he won’t.”

Boiling oil rages in his stomach, and Kageyama snaps back, “What do you know? You’re just a secretary! All you’re good at is getting information out of people and checking the schedules! Just stick to that and stop trying to analyze people!”

The moment he sees Hinata step back, eyes wide, he knows he’s gone too far. It’s rare that Hinata corners him, it’s usually the other way around. Kageyama bites his lip, and makes his body drop back to cool ice. “Sorry,” he says, holding Hinata’s eyes. Meaning it. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have.”

Kageyama hates admitting that other people are right, and he hates admitting that Hinata’s right even more. But there’s a distance between them now, and it’s all his fault. “I wouldn’t mind if Oikawa stuck around forever. He’s… incredible. He’s the most incredible person I know. I want to know more about him. Everything.” He wants Oikawa to come to the offices after work, to make more awful sugary drinks, tease him, laugh. “But it’s not happening.”

“Well,” Hinata offers, “he wants the case solved, right? So solve the case.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama finally says, pushing the nagging back down to where he can’t reach it.

 

* * *

 

The office always looks the same, inside and out. Kageyama highly suspects that even if they slap a fresh coat of paint on the walls, everything will resist, and stay just the way things are.

Except this time, there’s someone in the reception area in a white linen suit, rolling a smoking cigarette in his hand.

Hinata is shaking as if he’s in the middle of an icebox. Chewing on his lips, not saying anything, but his gaze is constantly fixed on Oikawa. Kageyama knows that look-- he’s always ready to bolt. Oikawa does just the wrong thing, and Hinata will dart out the window to the roof.

“Tobio-chan,” Oikawa says around a smile. “I was waiting for you.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. He holds open the door to his office, watching closely as Oikawa rises.

“You can’t smoke in here!” Hinata finally stammers out.

Oikawa blows him a smoke kiss before stepping inside.

The door shuts tightly behind them.

"I think I've found something out."

"Something good this time," Oikawa says, voice still on the edge from bitterness. He settles onto the desk, legs thrown towards Kageyama’s chair. No mesh along his legs this time, just solid white tailored fabric.

Too distracting. Kageyama turns, looking at the shadows on the wall wriggling between the cigarette smoke. "Yes."

“And?”

He takes a small, deep breath. "Your husband loved you. He really did. I didn't get the impression he was a bad man at all."

Oikawa’s shadow raises the cigarette to his lips again.

"But just because someone's a good man doesn't mean the marriage is good." The room seems to spread out before him as he studies the fold in the wall. "Oikawa-san, you're a brilliant man. You're smart, and you have a good job. It must be very frustrating when everyone treats you like you're only good for being arm candy."

"I'm used to it."

"Are you? You have the skills, the motive, and the money, but you still had to listen to Ushijima. You're his husband, not the other way around. All the Ushijima family rules were yours to uphold, whether you liked it or not. You had to bow your head to someone else, and all it did was get you more rules and more restrictions. People thought Ushijima only married you for your face, and you're too smart to not notice. You hated the position your husband put you in, but you couldn't divorce him without making your family upset. You were miserable.

“Hinata always tells me that being personable is everything. Hinata's an idiot, but people still like talking to him better than me. Ushijima's the same way; he was genuine and sincere, but he wasn't the best talker. That everyone agreed on." Kageyama turns to look at Oikawa, at the face hidden behind a veil of smoke. "What did you think of your husband?"

"I told you."

"Nothing you said explains what you thought of him."

Oikawa puts the stick to his lips again. "He was a stupid, serious man. Too straightforward, too much of everything. But he didn't hit me, he wouldn't dare, and he tried to be nice in his own stony way."

"Anything else?"

"Looking up information is your job."

"I know."

Oikawa narrows his eyes, and Kageyama fights back a gulp. "Let’s put that aside for now. Whenever you had a fight with Ushijima, you couldn't just talk to anyone, or else they might tell Ushijima or worse, your new mother-in-law. You had to have someone around that you trusted. So you brought in Iwaizumi, your childhood friend, and pulled him in with a good pay. You needed a servant, sure. But you must have been so lonely without him around, because you were in the Ushijima house under the Ushijima rules. Iwaizumi didn't just take care of you, he was the only person you could be yourself around. You could pour out your frustrations on him, and he'd listen. He's your only ally. Of course you'd start loving him, more than you should."

Oikawa stares, his eyes corpses. “You think I’d kill Ushiwaka-chan because I wanted to get with Iwa-chan? I’m not a fan of cheating, but if I really wanted to, I don’t need a dead husband to get someone into my bed.”

"No, you falling for Iwaizumi was just a bonus. What you wanted was far more necessary. You hated your husband. Even when you tried to reach out, he'd shoot you down because he doesn't speak your language. You two could never reach an agreement. Even when he tried to make it up to you, it was always in a way that got you upset. Maybe you thought he loved you at first, maybe you didn't. But you had to get out of his grip. So I came up with a theory."

"And?"

He takes a deep breath. “The bodies were found in the pool, by you first, and then Iwaizumi. The police thought that Ushijima drank more than he should have and tried to take a swim. Kindaichi came with some food and jumped into the pool to save his drowning master. But he couldn't swim, so in the frenzy, he hit his head and drowned too. And you were upstairs, having left the pool earlier."

"It's like I told the police," Oikawa sighs, "Ushiwaka-chan and I were drinking brandy by the poolside earlier. The servants can confirm that. We were drinking a lot, and I left early because I was tired of swimming. And whatever happened after is probably what you said. I came back down because I wanted to ask Ushiwaka something, and that's what I found."

"You were drunk too?"

"Yes, or else I would've gotten back to the house much faster."

Kageyama feels a sense of tranquility wash over him, acute down to every nerve. “Oikawa, you went to Todai's Science. You head a pharmaceutical company. You know exactly how much alcohol someone needs to start to slip. You touched everything on the shelf last time you were here, but you didn't touch the brandy. You don't even like brandy, do you? How can you get drunk off a drink you don't like?"

“You’re accusing me, Tobio-chan?”

"If you did it, it would all make sense. You made to get Ushijima more drunk than usual, all while keeping yourself sober. The house is far enough away that nobody can look over you or hear when there's a fuss. Ushijima gets too drunk. Maybe you suggest that he goes swimming, and he listens because he loves you. Maybe you push him, and he falls in. It doesn't matter. You make sure he goes into the pool, and then you leave. You know the only person who's coming is Kindaichi, who can't swim. Even if he tries to save Ushijima, he can't get to him, not with how large and deep the pool is. You leave your husband to drown. Kindaichi was just too sincere, I don't think you meant to get him killed too.”

Silence was answer enough. Kageyama looks hard at Oikawa, dressed impeccably. “Why is that suit of yours white?”

“I hire you to prove me innocent, you accuse me of murder, and now you’re asking about my suit? It’s white because I ordered it to be white.”

“Why not black?”

“Because it’s not a damn crime for a man to have white clothes.”

“Sure. But Oikawa-san, everything you own is white. Me, black’s just the cheapest thing in the clothing stores. But you can stretch your wallet far, can’t you? You could wear neon orange and nobody would bat an eye. You wouldn’t wear all white all the time unless you wanted to. And you especially wouldn’t wear white to a funeral unless it had some meaning.”

“Why not? Pure white for a pure soul, that’s me.”

“In Europe, maybe. I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to show off how clean you were, but you don’t need white clothes to prove that. You’re the head of a pharmaceuticals company, nobody works with chemicals and leaves their stuff too messy. But white’s also good for one other thing.”

“Renewal?”

“Corpses. Because that what you’ve been for years, right? The living dead. And the only way for the dead to get alive again is by taking a chunk of the living. You had to kill Ushijima. It’s the only way you’d get out.”

Silence replaces chatter.

Oikawa goes through a fresh cigarette before he talks again. “That’s a pretty nice story. Let’s speak hypotheticals. So there’s this young man, smart, got his whole life ahead of him. Then in uni he meets this stony guy; also smart, also talented, except has way more backing, and they do not get along. Fights, arguments over tiny things, you name it, because the stony guy has no brain to mouth filter, and says things where it hurts. He doesn’t have a bad bone in his body, but everything just rubs the young man the wrong way.

“Little does the young man know that the stony guy’s fallen for him, hard. He wasn’t expecting it- after all, he hates the guy, so he just assumed the guy hates him too. Right as they graduate, the stony guy drops a proposal on him. The young man thinks he’s joking, because how could he not be, with their relationship and the law the way it is? But he’s serious, dead serious, and the young man finds that out the moment the family shows up at his house for marriage discussions.”

Oikawa lets the cigarette burn some more. “So they get married, and the young man hates it, but the stony guy doesn’t treat him badly. The young man endures it, but he didn’t think about what it would be like to marry into one of the oldest families in the country.” His voice dips into acid. “Rules and permissions, having to bow his head for everything, because he’s not core family, no he’s just a husband. He’s got all the routes he could take to bloom in his career, but they’re all gated off unless they fit the family image. Because he can never make children, the least he could do is make sure the family is respected. Always. Doesn’t help that people don’t change that much and while the stony guy gets to know him a little better, communication’s still not his strong suit, and everything he does stresses the young man out. Hurts him, some days, even if the stony guy doesn’t mean to- he’d never mean to. It burns.

“Think of how it would feel to go talk to someone you’re supposed to love, but every time they just tell you off. Not intentionally, so he’s constantly reminded that he has no right to be upset. Surrounded by his husband’s allies, who all treat him like a joke because he just happened to be born pretty. It’s maddening. The marriage that was advertised as a path is actually a cage, and he’s the beautiful bird that’s supposed to sit in the middle and never complain. It was too much. He’s getting strangled slowly. It wasn’t do or die at first, but it became one over time.”

“So that's your confession right there.”

"Confession? I was telling a story, all fantasy. Just because you say it doesn't make it true. Who knows? Maybe you're right, maybe you're completely wrong."

Kageyama looks right into Oikawa’s eyes, blue to brown. "I recorded this whole conversation. The police aren't too keen on fighting with the Ushijima family, especially since they're always very generous with their donations, but they won't be able to ignore hard proof."

"Is that it?"

"Yes."

"Ah," Oikawa's teeth shine in the dim. "You mean the recorder you have hidden under your table?"

Kageyama goes stiff.

"You thought I wouldn't notice it when you were out of it? I switched it off when I sat on the desk. Turning your back to me like that. You got some noise, sure, but just of me walking in, and maybe flirting with you a bit. It's no crime for a widow to flirt once their husband is dead. That was your only hope, wasn't it? You have no evidence otherwise. It's all just talk. Making yourself feel better by talking out loud doesn't mean you're right, and circumstantial evidence won't hold up in court. So here's what you'll do." Oikawa's long fingers find Kageyama's tie. Blocking out the overhead lamp, Kageyama sees the full might of a shadowy god before him. "You'll end up closing the case. Inconclusive. And then I'll submit this to the MPD, and they'll close the case for good once they see that neither them or an outsider can find any evidence of foul play. That'll clear my name and pacify Shiratorizawa, because you can't make a fuss over an accident. And I'll be free to live my life. Finally free. Thanks to you, Tobio-chan."

The lump in Kageyama’s mouth is too large to swallow. It knocks against the back of his throat, over and over again. He can’t feel his fingers. Maybe he’s lost them to the cold that’s spread over his spine, trickling deep, deep down.

The door rattles as Hinata kicks it open. “Grand King!” He dashes in, planting himself firmly at Kageyama’s side. Chin up and eyes blazing, he pushes himself up to be as tall as possible. “If you did it, we’re going to catch you! You won’t get away with it!”

“You think so? Pretty big if, considering I didn’t do it. But if I did,” Oikawa’s smile is razor-sharp. “Good luck.”

He grinds out his cigarette on Kageyama’s mug and fixes his tie. Out the door he goes, a flicker of proud white that leaves nothing but the dark in his path.

Hinata fumes after him, rattling off every insult he can come up with. Rages like a little bonfire, blowing off some steam. With a huff, he settles down, crossing his arms firmly over his chest.

Sound ebbs into silence.

“Kageyama?”

A bite of fresh air. Kageyama’s voice comes out small. “Yeah?”

“Of all people, it had to be him?”

Kageyama’s eyes waver on the door, still on its slow journey shut after Oikawa swung it open. “Unfortunately.”

 

* * *

 

The train station is busy at most times, chaos at noon. Frantic people rush back and forth, pulling bags twice as wide as they are and clutching briefcases to their chests. An announcement comes garbled through the PA system, muffled under the chatter of flitting patrons.

The train to Sendai leaves at noon, but Kageyama’s been waiting on the platform since ten. There’s no drink to keep him occupied so he sits on the bench, counting colors.

Oikawa walks onto the platform, a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses on his nose. He’s still mostly in white, but has traded out his pale jacket for turquoise. Daring for the first time to really stand out. He stops before Kageyama, cigarette smoking between his fingers. “Tobio-chan. Is this a coincidence?”

“No.” Oikawa’s shined shoes are right in front of him, but he can’t bear to look at him up close. Not again. “MPD closed the case.”

“Thanks to you.”

“You tricked me.”

“Don’t take it personally.”

But he does. It rages and aches, but beneath that, he still feels the afternoon sun is no match for the man in front of him. “Tell me something.”

Silence is an assurance.

“I understand being trapped but… did you really hate Ushijima that much? Enough to kill him?”

“Ushiwaka-chan wasn’t that bad.” Oikawa’s voice comes out whisper soft. “He was annoying, but he wasn’t awful to me. I did try, you know. I really did try to make it work. I didn’t want to marry him, but if I had to be stuck with him, I couldn’t not give him a chance. You and Iwa-chan didn’t have to tell me- I knew he loved me. I didn’t hate him, not really. But like you said, different languages.”

“Then--”

“I’ll tell you something, that I haven’t told anyone, not even Iwa-chan. I wouldn’t have lasted long. Don’t think I’d go quietly- I’d struggle to the end, but I was running out of air.” Oikawa is firm, no room for arguments. “I’m not going to let anyone kill me.”

“And Kindaichi?”

“He was too loyal. Must’ve rushed in.” Oikawa takes another drag of his cigarette, shaking his head. “Fool,” he mutters, sadly.

“And Iwaizumi? Are you ever going to tell him?”

“About?”

“Everything.”

“He’ll never find out. How Ushiwaka-chan died. How I feel.” Among the smoke comes a resigned, “Ever.”

Kageyama looks up at Oikawa for the first time since he walked over. “And me?”

The platform trembles as the train comes rolling in. People shuffle towards the closed doors, eager to be the first ones in to pick the best seats.

“You’re stubborn. Works too hard. Too upfront. You’re too believing. Sympathetic, even if you frown all the time.”

Kageyama doesn’t say anything. What could he say?

“But you’re the only one that actually tried. Half the MPD looked the other way for easy jobs down the road once they retire, and the rest shrugged and went back to paper pushing. That’s why I had to go outside- because otherwise it wouldn’t be looked at as legitimate.”

Even though it wasn’t, in the end.

“You’ll never be able to open this case again. But keep working at it, and you’ll make a good detective.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“Listen when someone’s being serious.” Oikawa bends down, casting a shadow over Kageyama’s lap.

Something soft and warm presses up against Kageyama’s forehead. His heart slows down to a stop when he realizes.

Oikawa stands up and grinds his cigarette out on the ground. His sigh draws a line between them once again. “I’m not going to prison, ever. It’s over. But you’re not. Keep being stubborn, and who knows, one day you’ll get on someone’s nerves really well.”

Kageyama has a thousand words in his throat, but he can’t get any out. By the time one gets onto his tongue, Oikawa’s already walked onto the train, leaving nothing but a smoldering cigarette behind.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Sordid Affair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15474339) by [Miyukitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miyukitty/pseuds/Miyukitty)




End file.
